


Kiss you in the Morning

by Taybay14



Series: Saving people, writing prompts [19]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Caring Castiel (Supernatural), Cuddling Castiel/Dean Winchester, Drunk Dean Winchester, Drunken Confessions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Light Angst, No Spoilers, no specific timeframe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 17:21:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19214023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taybay14/pseuds/Taybay14
Summary: A prompt from @Doggolovingace on tumblr :"For the prompt thing, #5, destiel, fluff! Thank you, & I love your blog!"#5. There was nothing left in the room but an empty bottle of whiskeySam & Dean get into one of their angry/stubborn brother fights, and Dean copes with whiskey. When Castiel finds him, the angel gets a bit more than he expected. Who knew an empty bottle of whiskey could lead to so much more?





	Kiss you in the Morning

**Author's Note:**

> I know you wanted fluffy but feelings got into this somehow, so I'm sorry if it wasn't fluffy enough! Thank you so much for the prompt!

There was nothing left in the room but an empty bottle of whiskey.

 

“Oh, Dean,” Castiel says under his breath as he stares at the Jack Daniels label.

          

Sam comes to a stop behind him, looking over his shoulder. His jaw tightens and Castiel sees his eyes glaze over. For a minute, the two just stare at Dean’s empty bedroom.

         

In a voice that cracks, Sam whispers, “I didn’t mean it. What I said. I – I was angry.”

 

“I know, Sam.”

          

“I didn’t mean for him to leave.”

           

“I know, Sam.” Turning to face the youngest Winchester, Castiel places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes. “I’ll go find him.”

           

Sam clears his throat. “He could be anywhere.”

           

“I’ll find him. You stay here in case he comes back.”

           

Nodding weakly, Sam goes to Dean’s bed and sits on the edge of it. He leans over and buries his head in his hands. Castiel frowns but knows that Dean’s the priority right now. He needs to be. Not because Castiel’s in love with him – not that he’d ever admit that – but because he’s wasted and alone and probably replaying his brother’s words on a self-deprecating loop.

           

It takes seven minutes for Castiel to track him down. He finds him at the local bar downtown, slumped over on the counter and waving his hand as he yells something barely intelligible. The bartender looks incredibly unimpressed.

           

Just as Dean’s about to launch across the bar, screaming something about another drink, Castiel is wrapping an arm around his waist and hauling him away. The man kicks and screams and bitches, cursing everyone out, but he’s no match for an angel. With his free hand, Castiel reaches into his pocket and takes out a crumpled wad of bills. It’s way more than Dean could have spent here but he doesn’t have time to care.

           

When they get outside, Dean taps him on the arm and slurs, “Puts m’ down.”

           

“No.”

           

“Cas.”

           

“No.”

           

“’M not a fuckin’ baby.”

           

Castiel just scoffs, storming down the street toward home.

           

When they reach the bunker, Dean’s passed out cold. Sam jumps to his feet as they walk in and looks terrified when he sees his brother unconscious. “What happened? Is he okay?”

           

“He’s highly intoxicated, but fine. I’ll take him to his room.”

           

“I should apologize.”

           

Castiel pauses, one foot in the direction of Dean’s bedroom. “Tomorrow, Sam. Give yourselves the night.”

           

Sam looks away, no doubt replaying his words from earlier on his own self-deprecating loop.

           

Leaving him behind to sort himself out, Castiel carries Dean down the hall and into his room. He gently places the man onto the bed and steps back. Dean’s half curled up and half straightened out, one knee tucked to his chest and the other leg haphazardly kicked out. His left arm dangles off the edge of the bed.

           

“Dean,” Castiel says, more to himself than to Dean. “This has to stop.”

           

Without waiting for a response, Castiel begins to undress Dean so he can sleep comfortably. First, he pulls off the man’s heavy boots. Next comes his jeans. Then his flannel. The flannel is complicated, Castiel getting tangled up while trying to remove it. It’s enough to jostle Dean awake.

           

Rearing back, Dean blinks rapidly and looks around the room. “How’d I g’ home?”

           

“I carried you.”

           

Dean gasps as if he didn’t know Castiel was there, despite the fact their faces are only inches apart. “Cas! I missed you.”

           

“I, uh – I missed you too, Dean,” Castiel says awkwardly.

           

“Ev’thin’ ‘s fuzzzzzzy.” Dean giggles. “Fuzzzzy angel.”

           

Having a feeling fuzzy isn’t good for humans, Castiel decides to stay the night in Dean’s bed. His grace might not be strong enough right now to heal Dean from the alcohol but he can definitely stay awake beside him and keep him safe.

           

Castiel finishes getting Dean undressed, stopping when he’s in his boxers since that’s usually what Dean sleeps in. Dean giggles the whole time but says nothing.

 

“I’m going to stay in here tonight in case you need anything, okay?” Castiel says softly.

 

Dean giggles again, nodding his head in a lazy movement. “Yeah. Stay.”

 

Surprising the hell out of him, when he settles beside Dean in the bed, Dean rests his head on Castiel’s shoulder and cuddles into him. For a moment Castiel just freezes, but then Dean is wrapping an arm around him, mumbling into his neck, “‘Lax, Cas. Don’ be so worry allatime.”

 

Castiel looks down at Dean, smiling when he finds bright green eyes gazing up at him.

 

“What?” Castiel asks quietly, unsure why Dean is looking at him the way he is. Like he’s confused or fascinated with Castiel for some reason.

 

“You smell.”

 

“I’m sorry.” Castiel tries to pull away but Dean grips him tighter, laughing again.

 

“Noooooo. Smell gooood. Stay.”

 

“Oh.” Castiel settles into the bed again, his hand reaching up to cup the back of Dean’s head without his permission. He goes to remove it but stops when he hears Dean humming in appreciation at the touch. Since Dean seems to like it, he keeps his hand where it is and lets it relax. He even finds himself carding through the soft strands with his fingers, like an angel would do with feathers.

 

Dean nuzzles him with the tip of his nose and Castiel can feel a smile against his skin.

 

“What are you so happy about?” Castiel asks, hoping Dean will answer honestly since he’s so drunk. He knows it’s probably wrong of him to take advantage of the alcohol in Dean’s system but Castiel is holding the man he loves and he wants to know if he’ll ever be able to do it again. He wants to find out if his suspicions that maybe Dean feels the same way are real, or just wishful thinking.

 

“This jus’ nice.”

 

“Yeah,” Castiel whispers. “It is.”

           

“Shoul’ do it more off’en.”

           

Castiel chuckles softly. “I didn’t think you’d be the cuddling type.”

           

“With you? I’m the ever’thin’ type.”

           

Feeling guilty because he knows that Dean wouldn’t be confessing such things if he were sober, Castiel says, “Maybe you should get some rest. We can talk tomorrow.”

           

“No.”

           

“Dean-”

           

“Noooo,” Dean all but whines. “Like this.”

           

“I know. I like it too.” Without meaning to, Castiel’s arms tighten around Dean. Maybe he should just change the subject, that way they can stay like this but not go into any dangerous territory. “Sam feels terrible about your fight.”

           

Surprisingly, Dean just scoffs and waves a hand. “I know. He didn’ mean it.”

           

“Promise you believe that?” Castiel asks, worried. Sam said some pretty awful things during their fight earlier. Things about Dean being selfish and untrusting and emotionally constipated. About being a liar. About hiding things and backstabbing. Some of it was warranted - Dean was meeting with Crowley behind both Sam and Castiel’s backs for a few weeks now - but a lot of it was flat out untrue.

           

“Promise.”

           

“Then why did you get so intoxicated?”

           

Dean shifts uncomfortably, his hand tightening on Castiel like he’s afraid he’ll lose him. “Thought you believed ‘em.”

           

It takes a minute for Castiel to recover because Dean stuns him with that. He’s not sure what’s more surprising, Dean believing Castiel could ever think that way about him, or Dean caring if he did. Caring enough to drink himself stupid.

           

When Castiel says nothing for too long, Dean deflates. “Knew it. You do believe it.”

           

“Dean, no. Not at all. I meant it when I said those things weren’t true. That Sam didn’t mean them. He was angry.”

           

“I knooooww.” Dean pulls away and sits up, looking at Castiel in exasperation. “Can we jus’ go back t’ talkin’ bout you smellin’ good.”

           

Castiel laughs and nods. He pulls Dean to him, letting Dean bury his face in his neck, and kisses Dean’s temple. They both tense, but then Dean peers up at him with a nervous smile and presses forward until their lips are touching. It’s a quick kiss. Subtle. When he pulls away, his green eyes are wide as he stares at Castiel for a reaction.

           

Since there aren’t any words, Castiel just leans forward and kisses him back. This one lasts a little longer, but stays closed mouthed and sweet.

           

“Dean,” Castiel whispers, suddenly feeling terrified.

           

“‘S okay.”

           

“You’re very drunk. This - this can’t happen. Not like this.”

           

“I know.” Dean just sags against him again, this time wrapping an arm around Castiel’s waist and a leg around Castiel’s knee. “We sleep. ‘N I kiss you in the mornin’.”

           

And then Dean’s passed out, lightly snoring, and Castiel feels the urge to cry even though he didn’t think his vessel could do such things. He knows in his gut that Dean will either forget this happened, or regret it. Either way, it’s going to tear him apart.

 

 

\----

 

           

The following morning, Dean wakes up alone in his bed. He walks through the bunker in a near panic, checking rooms as he goes. He doesn’t even care he’s still in nothing but his boxers, Sam will get over it. All he needs is to find Castiel. He knows last night wasn’t a dream, but he doesn’t know what made Castiel decide to leave. _Did Dean wake up and say or do something to ruin it already? Why wouldn’t he remember that? Maybe Castiel changed his mind? Or Castiel hoped he’d just forget?_

           

Dean nearly stumbles into the kitchen he’s walking so fast. Sam looks up from where he’s sitting at the table reading a newspaper. He bypasses him, seeing an angel in a trenchcoat and heading straight for him.

           

Castiel turns with wide blue eyes and a nervous smile. “Dean. Good morning. I made you coffee. Figured you might be-”

           

And then Dean’s cutting him off, slamming his lips against Castiel’s in a kiss that’s the opposite of the one from last night. It’s rough and sloppy and desperate. It goes on and on, neither of them even hearing Sam when he makes a hasty comment about going out for groceries and all but sprints away from them.

           

When Dean eventually pulls away, it’s to cup Castiel’s face and look him in the eye. “Now, for future reference, next time I tell you I’m gonna kiss you in the morning? Be there when I wake up.”

           


End file.
